New Beginnings
by 20leungk2
Summary: If Holden wants to make a new beginning, he must first confront his feelings of the past. Catcher in The Rye One Shot (pastiche)


You ever wonder what it would be like to travel back in time? I mean, not until you're a baby, just until you're about six years old. You would keep your memories too and all. Then you could just waltz into school and ace all your tests on the first try. It would be so easy, people would think I was a goddamn genius or something. That would be nice. I mean, I wasn't _dumb_, I just never felt like trying. So in the end I got sent here. At first I told them I didn't care where they sent me. I didn't bother to listen to which state I was moving to or which aunt happened to live there and all that grown-up kind of crap. But, and I know this sounds crazy, the truth is, my new school isn't really all that bad.

I should first tell you what it's called. New Era college. Stupid name, I know, but I suppose it's better than old Pencey Prep. I mean, it has a baseball court and all. That's why I brought my baseball mitt, the one Allie used to play with and scribble poems all over. I used to think a lot about Allie. Heck, sometimes I'd even talk to him. I know it's crazy, but I feel like he's the only one that listens to me. Now I just play baseball. Everyone thought I was being a phony, having just gotten off being the goddamn manager of a fencing team and all. But I like baseball. The rules never change.

Anyways, I'm here now. I met one of my classmates yesterday - a girl named Phoebe - and I wasn't too keen when I found out she had the same goddamn name as my sister. It annoyed the hell out of me, if you want to know the truth. So yesterday when she came with her parents, I made sure I was out of the building. I didn't want to meet this goddamn phony and her goddamn phony folks. I figured this was my time to check out the baseball court, see if there were any good players out there and all. So when I went, I was mightily disappointed when I found out the baseball court was smaller than the goddamn school gymnasium. There were about a dozen little kids playing on the field, catching balls and swinging bats and all. It reminded me of Allie and it depressed the hell out of me.

But then what happened, I felt someone tug on my shirt. I looked down and a little boy with red hair, maybe six or seven years old, was looking at me with this really weird look on his face.

"Can you teach me baseball?" He asked me. I wanted to turn away, but something about him made me think of Allie.

"What's your name, hey?" I asked.

"Abe," he said. "Do you play baseball? You teach me?"Abe grabbed a fistful of my shirt and pulled me onto the field next to first base, where his bat lay. "This is my bat," he announced, pointing at it. His gaze travelled down to the glove in my hand. Allie's glove. His eyes lit up. "You give me your glove? We can play!"

I don't know what was wrong with me, but I gave it to him. He smiled this great big beaming smile and put it onto his left hand. I remembered that Allie was left-handed, and I felt so goddamn depressed, I was about to turn away and leave. But then what Abe did, he looked at me with these great big eyes and all. So then I started to teach him baseball. It wasn't that I wanted to, for Chrissakes. I just really didn't have anything special to do that afternoon. Besides, I really didn't think it would, but it felt good to see that mitt on a field again. I mean, I'd never used it myself.

It was quite annoying at first, how Abe kept swinging the goddamn bat too hard and then losing his balance and falling over. You'd think he'd learn the first time he did it, but he kept falling down and getting up and swinging it again and falling down again. The grass was soft, so I decided to just let him keep trying. That's the thing with kids. You have to let them continue to try. If they fall down then they fall down, but that's what they want to do and it's bad if you say anything to them.

Yet as I was sitting there, I watched Abe experiment with putting one little foot in front of the other. Eventually, I watched him figure out how to stand so that his weight was evenly distributed. Then I watched him figure out how to balance the bat with one arm and what I did, I taught him to aim with the other. Then I watched as he hit the ball out of the park for the first time.

And suddenly, I didn't feel so depressed anymore.


End file.
